Red wons go fasta!
by Riddlesindisguise
Summary: An Ork Warboss of the Evil Suns clan wages a Krusade against the 40k galaxy. Read and reveiw! Fourth Chapter is up!
1. Get 'em boyz!

I was very bored one day, slipped, and hit my head on the table. After that I got the idea for this story. Enjoy this concussion-fueled epic!

This is my re-edited, re-done, and over hauled version (with red paint!) I hope I patched any holes you might have found, if not, review and say something. I won't know what to fix other wise.

Disclaimer: I own no games Workshop stuff/ideas or anything that could get me money.

Dear God I wish I did.

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Fog was draped over the ruins of Salvation hive city. Polluted skies belched tainted lightning to the east, and the odor of rain came as a silent visitor. The silence was complete, save for one place.

A large, treaded vehicle thundered its way through the narrow streets.

What rubble wasn't pushed aside by the large plow welded to the front of the trukk, the brutal vehicle crushed under it's looted treads.

The Ork vehicle shook wildly as the tortured engine pushed it over another huge pile of crushed rockcrete. The garish red paint and roaring engine was a stark contrast to the former silence. Ruined building stood like broken pillars lining the streets. On an elevated turret an Ork manned a big, chunky shoota, and did all he could to look busy and keep from attracting the Boss's attention. It was never a good idea to interrupt the Boss when he was thinking, he was known to be very trigger–happy.

Below the turret, the huge, mega-armored bulk of the Warboss, Waaagh-bang Ironteef sat among the shadow cast by the shoota turret. Waaagh-bang forcefully drove his huge power klaw into the steel plates of his trukk to steady himself.

To the Imperials the Warboss had faced, Waaagh-bang seemed more as brutality made manifest. The Ork towered over his fellow greenskins, and it was said that only The Proffit of Da Waaaagh, Ghazkull Mag Uruk Thraka himself was bigger. Waaagh-bang's Mega-armor was painted a bright red, and his klaw was big enough to shear tank armor like tin. His head was not only protected by the great iron gob from his armor but also a red helmet with big horns, the red to help him think faster and the horns to look more impressive.

He had led his boyz for over ten standard years, and had crushed Eldar, Humans, Chaos, and now, if it was the last thing he'd do, he'd add Necrons to the list.

_Dis planet was a good find_, He thought. _Does weird, metal, Skeliton-boyz foight good, almost a challenge for the boyz to smash._

The Warboss glanced fondly at the trophies that he had made some grot hang on his banna. Mostly the skulls he had taken off of previous battle fields also armor plates had been bolted on and a huge glyph of the _Evil suns_ clan was painted in the center in bright red. Concerning his trophies, nothing irritated Waaagh-bang more than the fact that he hadn't managed to get a Necron skull yet. The silvery machines always disappeared when things turned bad for them, and the heads he took always vanished with their owners.

Still, Waaagh-bang's Orks had beaten the Necrons time and again, and this human city was the last hold of theirs, Waaagh-bang was sure of it.

The air changed quality, and Warboss snorted when he caught the stench, or more exactly, absence of stench that the Necrons seemed to give off.

"Oi! Driva! Stop dis ride rioght now, or oi'll beat yez stoopid!"

The Driva-boy muttered out of the boss's earshot, and kicked the engine with his steel-shod boot until it silenced. The trukk began slowing, and the Driva then pulled over in the shadow of a ruined skyscraper.

The rain started to fall as Waaagh-bang punched a section of the trucks armored side off with his klaw, then he hopped out the hole. The ground trembled as the massive Ork's steel shod boots landed on a ruined sidewalk. The Warboss turned to the back of his trukk stomped to where a gaggle of gretchin were tied to the bumper with rusty chain. Using his klaw he neatly snipped the chain and the gretchin fell to the ground in a heap. Waaagh-bang quickly blocked off all escape routs with his limbs then leaned over enough so the gretchin could see the smile on his face.

"Alroight grotz, it's yez lucky day!" the motors in Waaagh-bangs mega-armor whined as he pointed his klaw down a foggy street.

"You lot get to run down dat dere road, where yous'll _probly_ get made all crispy-lioke by dem zappy skeliton guns."

The Warboss's tone dropped to a growl. "And if you's run any uvva way, Oi'll _diffidently_ shoot yous."

The gretchin stared in utter terror at the huge Ork standing over them.

"NOW GROTZ!" Waaagh-bang roared.

In a panic the gretchin hurried down the rain-slick street and into the fog. A few moments passed, and then bright green light flashed repeatedly from inside the fog, and several high pitched gretchin shrieks were heard then silenced. Waaagh-bang nodded in satisfaction.

"Alroight boyz, get 'em! WAAAAAAGH!!"

Orks answered his battle cry and, seemed to sprout from nowhere. Mobs of Orks filled the rain-coated streets, shooting their sluggas in the air and shouting chants and loud "WAAAAAGH!" battle cries at the top of their lungs. Waaagh-bang climbed into the trukk. "Go! Go, you lousy Mek, GO!!"

The engine gunned and the vehicle raced off into the fog. The roaring of other ramshackle gas-guzzling Ork trukks and wartraks echoed between the ruined towers of the Hive-city. Arcs of green lightning flashed past, their brightness revealing the gaunt and expressionless faces of the Necrons. A blood thirsty smile spread across Waaagh-bangs face and leveled his shoota at the advancing metallic warriors. High caliber, turbo-penetrater rounds sprayed from his gun's barrel. Blank, lifeless faceplates and ancient bodies stood solidly as the bullets ricocheted of them, but some were riddled by the hail of bullets and fell to the ground to be stepped over and forgotten by their marching brethren. Waaagh-bang laughed as a Necron didn't move out of the truck's path but stayed and fired. The green arc gouged a hole in his armor, and he nearly doubled over with powerful laughs over when the Necron was crushed under the four ton trukk's treads. To him the crunch it made was second funniest sound ever, right below Eldar battle cries. Seriously, think about it.

An explosion behind him caused him to turn around.

"WAAAHOOOO!!"

Stormboys rocketed over the trukk, straight towards the silent silver army. Waaagh-bang growled at the flying fighters, He had wanted to be the first to the fight. The fact that the Nob of the group made a rude gesture as he passed didn't help. _If dat Nob iz still aliove at the end of all dis…_

Waaagh-bang's attention was stolen by a strange "chunk" sound coming from the front of the trukk. The Driva was slumped over the wheel, his head on a button labeled "don't touch dis, eva!!"

Waaagh-bang paused while this information trickled in.

"Wait, what does dat button d-"

The trukk detonated, the resounding shockwave knocking Necrons and Orks alike off their feet. Shrapnel sliced its way through all that hadn't fallen. Waaagh-bang was thrown high into the air by the powerful blast, shouting at the top of his voice: "I's gonna kill da Mek wot put dat dere!!!"

Waaagh-bang saw through rain rimmed eyes that that the explosion had thrown him high and far, he was going to land right in the middle of the silvery army. Twisting so that he would land feet first he stared right in to his foe's eyes.

"WAAAAAGH!!"

His two massive, steel-shod feet slammed two Necrons into the ground, ancient armor crumpled beneath his weight. The second he regained balance, his klaw scythed into another's head. Battle fueled joy sang in his heart, for this is what most Orks only dreamed of. Near endless enemies, and the ability to stomp them all flat. A blank faced warrior raised his weapon over his head, the under slung axe blade glinting in the rain. Roaring Waaagh-bang caught the weapon in his klaw, crushed it, and fired his shoota at point blank range into the silver warrior. More Necrons came to fight him.

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The Stormboy Nob looked at his boys in pride, they were chopping those can-humies good. Too bad there weren't lots more.

He stood tall for an ork, just topping over seven feet. He wore thick squig-leather clothes, and he was tough enough to make any of his boyz, not just some grot, cower in fear.

This earned him plenty of respect.

Squinting through the rain the Nob saw Waaagh-bang in the thick of the fighting, but far from all reinforcements. He shouldered his choppa and smirked.

"Oi, boys take a look at da boss!"

The stormboys hurried over, in time to see Waaagh-bang pound another necron into the ground, but more silvery warriors took its place.

"Looks loike I's gonna be boss soon, eh?"

The Nob Gave a loud boisterous laugh, the Stormboys pointed and laughed with their Nob. It never paid to side against the nearest boss.

Suddenly the air seemed to crackle with energy, small sparks zapped between the Nob's teeth. The Nob stared at one boy whose hair began to stand on its ends.

"What doin' da-"

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Waagh-bang's concentration was broken by the huge explosion of energy. A smoking crater lay where the stormboyz once stood.

_Dat stinks_ thought Waaagh-bang. _I's wanted to pound dat gretchin-lovin' Nob_.

Silently a massive shape drifted out of the shadows. It's nigh impenetrable armor was illuminated by the eerily glowing rods embedded in it, and the crystal mounted on the top shined malevolently. The crystal pulsed and a beam full of destructive energy slammed into a squad of boyz, turning all in the blast to dust. An answering orange blast came from the sheets of rain and blew off one of the Necron monolith's corner mounted turrets. A very familiar rumbling was heard, and a huge monolith-ish shape made itself visible. Waaagh-bang looked from his fight to see his battle-wagon _Deth on Tredz_ thunder into the fight. The tank had the towering outline of a Necron monolith but Waaagh-bangs best meks made it all orky. A crackling zzzap gun poked out of the main doorway and launched off another blast, this dissipated as it hit the ancient armor of the Necron machine. The monolith rotated to face this new threat, and _Deth on Tredz _charged straight into the floating behemoth. Waagh-bang laughed and returned to his fight.

To his surprise the silver warriors had backed off, to his pleasure a more impressive foe came down to meet him. A larger Necron, with robes that floated despite the rain, descended down from the sky on a silvery skimmer platform like death itself. The Necron lord was gaunt and skeletal like its brethren, but intricate golden strings of runes were etched in gold all along its frame. The robe, tattered and ragged, billowed around the lord's skimmer-body in an ethereal wind. In its clenched fist was a bladed staff that resonated with power. The Lord's face was blank and emotionless, but the blazing green eyes showed its contempt for all that lived.

Waaagh-bang noticed none of this, there was an impressive enemy to fight. He threw himself as fast as his armor would let him at the lord. The Necron lord flew up into the rain and unleashed blasts from the top of its staff, the bolts of energy burned craters in Waaagh-bangs armor. In frustration Waaagh-bang opened fire with his shoota. Stray rounds pinged and ricocheted off the Necrons body, many missing altogether. Three slugs found their mark and one of the skimmer's lifts sparked then failed. Waaagh-bang roared as his foe began to plummet to the ground. "I's got yous now you git!"

The lord swung its staff and cleanly sliced the barrels of Waaagh-bang's shoota. The Warboss snarled and retaliated with his klaw. The lord deftly knocked it aside, and then struck again. The lord's attacks were like lightning, the lethal edge of the staff striking like a serpent. Waaagh-bangs mega-armor held up against most of the strikes but gave way near his left leg the wicked edge bit deep into his leg and burned like fire. Waaagh-bang roared and sent his klaw down like a meteor from above. The lord avoided it but the Necron's staff was sheared in two. The lord ascended into the air and pounding rain, its skimmer whining in protest.

"Lioke hell is yous gettin' away!"

Waaagh-bang swung his klaw with all his might, smashing it into the skimmer's side like a wrecking ball. Waaagh-bang laughed and pulled on his weapon. The klaw wouldn't move, and to his surprise he started to be lifted off the ground. The skimmer's jets screamed in protest of such a large weight addition, and the lord glared down at the Ork in silent fury its eyes like green beacons. Waaagh-bang shook his klaw in an attempt to release it, but wires within the skimmer had been tangled around it and held firm. The warboss pointed his mega-armors shoota straight up at the underbelly of the lord, there was a clicking noise. Waaagh-bang brought the shoota to his face, and looked at the sliced barrels. "Oh, roight."

He aimed up again and flame bellowed out from a small scorch hidden among the severed shoota barrels.

"Leggo you's tin-can humie!!"

The Scorcha's fuel ran out a second later and when the flame vanished, the Necron lord reached with its arms to try to rip the ork from its body. Its eyes shown like tiny emerald suns from its metal face.

Waagh-bang glared at his foe, and repositioned his shoota arm."Eat dis!"

Waagh-bang lashed out with his ruined shoota, and the huge armored fist shattered the ancient lord's face, sparks flew as sheared shoota barrels punched through the back of the Necron Lord's metal skull. The skimmer lost power, and swiftly fell to the ground. Waaagh-bang grinned in satisfaction, until the skimmer landed on him, his armor creaked with the weight. The Warboss took a deep breath and then slid the dead Lord off from on top of him.

When he got up he looked around, readyto fight some more, but instead of being surrounded by more Necrons, he was surrounded by his boyz. Looking around he saw the smokeing wreck of the monolith in the distance, and his boys surging over the last remnants of the Necrons. The Warboss made a toothy grin.

"Dats roight boyz! Give 'em a taste of da WAAAGH!!" Waaagh-bang was about to join his boyz when a green spark at the edge of his vision caught his attention.

Waaagh-bang stepped over to the front of the fallen Lord, its body slumped over the front of its skimmer. The Boss's iron clad foot shot out, and kicked the body so it faced up.

The Necron was not yet dead, one eye of the lord still glared volumes of hate out from it's smashed face. Still grinning Waaagh-bang grabbed the lord's body with his klaw and sparks flew as he ripped it from it's skimmer body. He then threw it from the ground and positioned his foot over the lord's shattered face.

"Ba bye, you's stinkin' git"

The booted foot fell like an avalanche, and slammed into the ground.

"What da…"

Waagh-bang saw the last shining bit of green energy as the Lord's frame vanished into thin air.

Boyz allover the battle field stood in confusion as their enemies disappeared right before their eyes. The smoking monolith faded too, and several Meks climbing on it fell to the ground.

Waaagh-bang looked around at all the orks around him.

"What iz ya gits lookin at?! Get ready, we's gotta catch dem tin-can humies!"

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In the distance the roaring of loud and brutal engines could be heard. Thunder continued to roll and rain steadily fell. Slowly the engines faded into the distance, and the Storm passed. Fog once more moved silently over the ruins of Salvation hive.

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So I re-did it, and I hope it's to your liking. So for those who haven't read this before:

What will happen next? Why are the Necrons here? What will the Orks do next?

Why haven't you pressed the review button already?! Get on with it!


	2. Ere we go, 'Ere we go!

Much thanks to my first reviewer Forcespike! Everyonr should follow his example and review, constructive criticism is welcome!

In response to the questions about the Monolith-battle wagon I had made up earlier I just want to say this: If there was one race in the 40k universe that could _accidentally _find a way to stop something Necron from phasing out, it would be the Orks. No contest.

Lastly I apologize for the lackage of detail in the last chapter. I didn't take the time to edit it, re-edit it, and then double check it again… You get the idea.

I wasn't intending to write another chapter to this but it was asked for, so here it is, enjoy.

**Warning!:** This story has an extreme amount of Gretchin abuse. If you don't like reading about Grots getting beaten, thrown, zapped, pummeled, squashed, stepped on, used to pound nails in, or just plain made fun of, you're wanting to stop reading this right now.

To all who find Grots being used as servants, messengers, hammers, wrenches, bait, living mine-sweepers or even ammo funny, welcome!

Disclaimer: This is based off Games Workshop's fine products, not my own. In short none of this is mine, so don't sue me.

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The planet Omacron had been forgotten by the Imperium and abandoned.

The planet had been scoured clean of life, but by what is unknown. There were no capillary towers that were the signature of a Tyranid attack; all life was just…gone. Not even were there burnt out husks of trees, or brown brittle grass. The planet was a desolate grey sphere in space, empty barren hills and huge hive-city ruins were all that was left. The New masters of Omacron had deemed that no life was permitted at all, not permitted save for one place and then only just.

A powerful green glow could be seen, emanating from inside a huge deep pit. Outlines from massive towers-like mounds of grey dirt were highlighted by the green light. The blaze of sickly colored light even drowned out the oranges and reds of the coming sunrise. Occasionally lightning crackled out from the depths. Lines of pitiful, ruined forms were around the pit, each digging and hauling dry, dead soil to the mounds around the pit.

Tall mechanical beings stalked around the pit, occasionally blasting their slaves with bursts from large guns, flaying their defenseless slaves to their component atoms in seconds or cutting them open with the mono-molecular edged axe blades on their weapons.

At the heart of the pit floated a terrifying apparition. Its body was made of the same ancient metal as its smaller brethren, but several differences made it the horror it was. It's gaunt, skeletal face was lined with strings of intricate golden runes, as was the rest of its metal body. Brightly glowing green eyes showed no emotion, save contempt or irritation. Tattered deep blue robes covered its metal spine, there was no wind but the robes still billowed and fluttered in an ethereal breeze that no one else could feel. In its hand a long bladed staff resonated with deadly power.

This was taking far too long.

The Necron Lord had no lower body but instead had a floating skimmer fused where legs might have once been. This had allowed it to be far more useful to its master. The lord floated down to the very bottom of the pit. Three slaves were there, pulling rocks and dirt off of a raised object. The lord came floated down behind them, and sliced all three in two with a single swipe from its warscythe. The Necron Lord took no pleasure in the screams, for it could not, but the blood, looking a deep brown in the green light, did wash away more of the grime that had been covering the hidden object.

It looked like a sarcophagus for a giant, made from a flawless, ancient, obsidian-like material. Gold icons shown brightly as the blood touched them. The blood suddenly stopped flowing down the sarcophagus, and began to slowly flow up. The lord watched blankly as the crimson liquid molded with the gold and was absorbed into it.

The gold shined a little brighter. What was inside was hungry.

The lord sent out a message to all it's underlings to bring the slaves down to the sarcophagus, and to spill their essence into it. Their master would soon come, and they would rule the universe once more.

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Mere miles away from the Necron pit, the ground shook.

It shook under massive treads and very oversized tires. Brutal chants and the roars of makeshift, but powerful engines dominated any silence there once was.

An army of Orks and their crude, ram-shackle tanks and vehicles thundered over hills, a vast dust cloud spread out from behind them like a hazy wall and blocked out the rising sun's rays.

No vehicle was the same, each looked like it had been put together in all of fifteen minuets by people who knew how a tank should look, but had no idea how one worked. Salvaged tank armor had been bolted on in random places, large caliber guns and kannon barrels stuck out from each hole in the armor, and even Imperial ration cans had been stomped flat and then brutally nailed to the sides of the rusty gas-guzzeling behemoths. Large buckets of red paint had been dumped down the sides, because every Ork knew that red made trukks, buggies, bikes, anything and every thing go faster. Crude pennants and flags waved from most of the larger tanks, all depicting a red circle with eyes and Orky teeth that was the glyph of the evil suns clan. Below the glyph was a red angular Orkish head with the teeth painted silver.

The massive column of machines all followed one tank.

The leading Battle-wagon might have once looked like a green, narrow pyramid, with cannon like weapons sticking out of the corners and curving arch like protrusions caging the top.

An engine of death, a Necron Monolith.

This was before the current owners got their hands on it.

The Monolith had been downed early in one of the first battles, The Warboss's favorite Big Mek had fashioned a huge Mega Tank Zzzappa out of a mess of Imperial, Tau, and Eldar weapons to take down one of the Necron war machines. The Zzzappa was a success and brought down the Monolith, but the unstable weapon was blown apart by its own recoil and killed the Big Mek who made it. The Monolith was downed, and for some reason the Necron vehicle did not phase out with its creators. When the Ork Meks had finally gotten to the monolith they found that the thing was completely solid, the front gateway turned out to lead to a wall. There were no controls, no lit up panels, no flashy buttons or switches, nothing but solid strange material.

No flashy stuff at all.

To the Orks it was obvious that they were dealing with a pathetically primitive race.

Not ones to let shear overwhelming odds bother them, the Ork Meks had set themselves to hollow out the pyramid. It took countless Tank-busta bombs, several Zzzap gun blasts and an army of grots with chisels, but the Orks succeeded eventually. Huge treads were welded where the anti-grav jets once were, large platforms had been glued onto the sides of the Monolith, where high caliber guns had been mounted. The portal-entrance had been broken ever since the Ork meks started to "kustimize", so now a huge zzzap gun was protruding from the opening. Even the Necron skull above the door was defaced. A bulky gob had been bolted on to its face and horns were welded to its head so it looked like an Ork. Buckets of red paint had been dumped down the sides of the Monolith and it had been christened _Deth on Tredz_. The top of the Monolith had been removed of its crystal, and all of the glowing green rods had been removed to be used as bashas and were thrown out later because they looked too wimpy by the boss's standards. At the top of the Battle-wagon, amongst the ruined and mangled arches a hulking mega-armor clad figure brooded on a red scrap-fashioned throne.

The Warboss Waaagh-bang Iron-Teef , Da Trigga-Happy was very annoyed by the slow progress his Battle-wagon was making. He glowered out from the shadows the ruined arches cast.

Waagh-bang was almost ridiculously large, even for a Warboss. Some of the Mek's Killa Kans were smaller than him. His rusty but thick mega-armor was made from tank hulls, and his power claw had to be kustom made to fit his gigantic hand. Covering his head was his "Tinkin' 'at", a huge scrap iron helmet painted red and had huge horns sticking out of it. He said his "Tinkin' 'at" made him think faster because it was red.

After all who was going to argue?

His bucket-like jaw was armored by a great iron gob, painted red with silver teeth. Aside from his obvious physical might, his temper is what was known through out his army. A temper that was being sorely tested right now.

He could see the Green glow in the distance, but they just weren't getting there fast enough. Even from his kustom-made throne the Warboss was losing patience. He had already tried yelling the orders to a grot, then kicking said grot down a hole in the roof armor. But the git had gone splat when it hit something on the way down.

Seriously, only a grot…

He had even tried shouting at the Driva-boy, but this got nowhere fast. The Driva couldn't really cower, he needed to drive the battle-wagon, and he couldn't control the speed, he just manned the oversized steering wheel that turned the _Tredz. _

Waaagh-bang growled, the deep sound making some of the less stuck on parts of his mega-armor rattle.

He was going to have to use "it" again.

He hated it, and until he bothered to learn what the Meks called it, it was "Da loud tingy."

Waaagh-bang reached out with his klaw and grabbed it. "It" was an unassuming block of metal with slots in the front and a wire trailing into the Battle wagon. He pulled it to his mouth. A loud whining screech noise echoed throughout _Deth on Tredz_. When it faded Waagh-bang spoke into the slots in the box. "Oi Meks!" the boss's voice boomed out of Orky Speakas. "I's wanted to shoot some of dem Tin-can humies dead since dey gave us da slip in dat Imp-ear-i-als place, _so kwit yer sloggin, or oi'll beat yez till yous is dumma den a grot!!"_ Waaagh-bang roared. He threw Da loud tingy back, and waited for his orders to work. "Driva, dat goes fer you too." "Y-Yes, boss." The Driva returned to his task on maintaining a somewhat even course toward the green glow.

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Big Mek Woresit grimaced until the feedback from the Boss's mikerfone died out. The red light that filled the interior of _Deth on Tredz _gave every thing a sinister glow, but with Ork reasoning something red on both sides has got to be fast. Woresit was a typical Big Mek, a wide sqig-leather tool belt around his waist held many spanners, hammers, wrenches and other tools mainly used for hitting stuff. He lost his left hand to a lucky bolter shot and had replaced it with a crackling Power klaw. His miniature power-plant of a backpack held all the things a Mek might need, including tank-busta bombs.

Attaching one of those to a grot and watching it run around in a panic had brought him many laughs.

He stomped over to a ramshackle table jutting out of the wall and ripped a skimatic out from under a grot that looked like it had fallen from a great height. Woresit held the skimatic upside down and studied it. His jaw shifted side to side. "Alrioght, uh-huh, ah…ah….got it!" The mek reached inside his mouth with one of his klaw's points and pulled a piece of squig out from between his teeth. He held it before him. "'Ow long was dat dere?" The Big Mek shrugged to him self and tossed the meat back inside his mouth and, then turned to a small group of fearful gretchin. "Oi! You grot! Get ova here!" The grot in question tried to scramble away. Almost to fast to see, a robotic arm with a clamp like claw lashed out from The Big Meks back pack and grabbed the gretchin. Woresit's mechanical third arm lifted the grot up to the meks face by the throat. The arm had once belonged to a fancy looking marine-boy, now it was Woresit's and it was excellent at grabbing grots.

The clamp-like arm held the grot in front of the upside down skimatic. "You's take da red wia and fits it wit da yeller wia, and den pull on da big leva, an do it before da boss uses 'is mikerfone again!" The Big Mek threw the grot at a gutted control panel. The grot sailed into the blocky machine, cracked it's head on the armored paneling and fell to the floor unconscious.

"Oops, oh well." He grabbed another gretchin. "You's hear what I tol' da udder one? And yous better say yes." Woresit flesh hand reached for his slugga. "Yes yes!" the grots head would have nodded but the Big Mek was gripping him by his neck. "Good." Woresit merely rolled the grot to the machine this time. The smaller greenskin tumbled until it hit the control panel. Pain flared up its side but it wasn't about to show it, the Big Mek would take that as sloggin'. Shakeing away the horrible thoughts of the beating it would get if it was caught sloggin', the gretchin scrabbled with the wires coming out of the holes in the machine. It brought the wires close to its large eyes desperately trying to find out which one was red in the already red glow inside the tank. "Red wia, to yellow wia, then da big leva." The gretchin repeated to itself so it didn't forget. Hastily it attached two wires together it fervently hoped were red and yellow, then it hopped up and yanked on the oversized lever sticking out of the box. The lever creaked and slowly lowered until lights came on the panel. A power cord leading from the side of the control box glowed slightly as unstable power surged through it. The cord plugged into the Battle-wagon's engine and the noise coming from engine itself rose immensely in volume. "We's got power Boss!" the gretchin squealed.

Woresit nodded in approval. The Boss was off his back and he didn't have to do a thing. "Good on yer, now go tell da Big Boss." The grot's eye widened in fear. "Uh how would Is get to da B-big B-B-Boss." Grots were not allowed on the lift leading to the Boss's perch on the roof. The Big Mek grinned. "Oh, Is got an idear 'bout dat." Woresit grabbed the gretchin and dragged it to a strange clear tube.

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Waaagh-bang growled in pleasure as he felt the once-monolith pick up speed. "'Bout time! Lousy Meks…" At his feet a clear Plastik tube vibrated and an annoying rattling noise came from it. Suddenly the top of it sprouted a small green head. "Er.. da engine's all fixed boss.' It squeaked.

Waaagh-bang glowered at the smaller greenskin. "Oh, good yez tol' me, Is would 'ave neva guessed." Waagh-bang kicked the Tube and the gretchin vanished back down it with a squeal.

Da Tube was another of his Mek's strage new innovations. Waaagh-bang used to have to listen carefully incase someone was shouting up a problem. But now there was this plastik Tube. At the other end was a squig that had its mouth tied over the opening and a small door had been cut in to the tube right above the squig. A grot could be shoved into the tube through the door and if you kept squeezing the squig hard enough, all the air forced out of it would push the grot up to him. The Warboss was slowly beginning to think his Meks were losing it. Sure these new things were useful, but they didn't shoot, chop, blow up, grind, or crush anything! Waaagh-bang growled many obscenities all directed at all Meks where ever they were. The rising sun was somewhat dimmed by thick polluted clouds, but its light still shown.

Something caught his eye.

It was in front of the _Tredz_ but nowhere near as big. The Warboss got out of his throne and stomped his way to the front edge, the Driva grunted as the Boss shoved him aside for a better view. There it was again, a brief flash, like light off metal. Seven ghoulish, hunched figures pulled them selves from the ground, torn green skin covered most of their metal bodies, like a sickening cloak and long sword like blades made the fingers of their hands. Despite the horrifying foes the Waaagh-bang jumped with glee, his steel-shod boots making dents in the floor as he landed. "It's about toim theys showed up, da useless gitz!" Waaagh-bang thundered his way to his throne and grabbed Da Loud Tingy. He ignored the terrible feedback and shouted into the mikerfone joyfully. "Oi boyz! Dere's some tin-can humies roight outside wot wants ta meet yer guns!"

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The Flayed-ones ran toward the Ork structure-vehicle, if they recognized what it once was they gave no sign. The Orks had been a thorn in their master's side for too long, and now the beasts were coming far too close to the sarcophagus. If they killed their gigantic leader, the Orks would be much more easily wiped off the world. As the thundering battle-wagon neared the Flayed-ones crouched and leapt to land on the tank steep sides.

"Now! Blast 'em boyz!"

Over forty shoota barrels came through opened portholes and gun slits that had been carved out off the tanks hull. What darkness and stillness of night might have been left vanished as all the shootas, sluggas and other weaponry were fired. Countless bullets flew at the leaping Necrons, the Flayed-ones cognitors and positronic brains instantly calculating the odds of being damaged in the barrage. They were quite high.

Many times many bullets and shells missed, but still three of the skin covered Necrons fell to the ground, riddled with bullet holes. The other four shrugged off the rounds and drove their sword-fingers deep in to the front of the former monolith's hull and began to climb up the battle-wagon.

Waaagh-bang leaned over the edge to see the robotic climbers. "So da gitz wont to fight me do dey?" The Warboss's power klaw popped open and snapped shut. A toothy grin filled his face. "Well Is wouldn't wont to dizappoint dem now does I." Waaagh-bang stomped over to his throne and slammed a button with his klaw.

The Battle-wagon simply stopped.

Inside the tank chunky tools, gretchin, and loosely bolted armor all flew to the front of the tank with the sudden jolt.

All along the edges connecting the front panel of the battle-wagon a brief hissing was heard. The Necrons still climbing stopped as the entire face of the once-monolith swung downwards on great hinges.

The flayed-ones quickly pulled themselves free of the wall and leapt to the ground, only to be crushed by the falling wall.

The Necrons sparked, twitched, and then vanished in a bright green light.

Waaagh-bang laughed and yelled down into the huge interior of the battle-wagon. "Oi Mekz! Dis drawbridge tingy, is da best oidea yous lot have come up wiv for long time!" His grin vanished. "Now get dis tank back togetta so we's can smash more of em!"

Woresit craned his neck so his ears were above his shoulders.

"Any of you lot 'ear wot 'e said?" The Big Mek asked the crowd of Meks behind him. The orks mumbled their "No boss"s and Woresit tried to make out his leader's voice over the idling engine. "Well da Boss proba- proble-, I finks 'e wants us to get movin'. Dat sound loike a fair bet to yous?" The Meks nodded to themselves, that sure did sound like the boss. "Alroight, we needs EGGNITION!" Woresit bellowed. One Mek grabbed a spanner and tall as he was and bashed the chunky engine. The ugly lump of metal shook slightly and a volcanic orange light poured out of the viewing ports and holes in the heat shield, the engine itself began to roar like a furious beast. "Da reacta's workin' Boss!"

"Good, close da door den!" Woresit barked. Massive chains and huge hidrawlik pumps began to pull the vast drawbridge-door back into place. Woresit's pilfered third arm clicked and snapped as if in anticipation. The sun light that had come through the open door was replaced with the rusty glow from the red lights inside the battle wagon "'Ey uh boss?" Woresit turned to see a goggled Mek monitoring safety gauges. "All da stuff is ready to go." Woresit stomped over to see for himself, his klaw clacking open and closed. The Big Mek nodded in slight approval, all the needles were safely in the red part. "Da _Tredz_ iz good ta go ladz! Step on da gas!" _Deth on Tredz _quickly gained speed and raced off back down its path towards the green glow.

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Information flowed through the Necron Lords Stargod-given brain.

The Assassination plan failed.

The Krork still come.

They will arrive within 0.00000000000036245 Starcycles.

They must not interfere with our Masters feast.

End them.

The Lord ascended above the pit and brought the not so distant enemy in to view. The lord sent messages to all available defenders.

Huge crescent shaped Pylon cannons rose from the ground, out from the pit silver armored Necron warriors marched out. Destroyers and Heavy Destroyers deployed from behind the tower-like mounds. A dread Monolith materialized from empty space and readied itself. The Master would arrive himself in all due time, and then life shall end.

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The roar of the engines was drowned out by the orks cheering. The mass of silvery warriors could be seen in the near distance.

Speed crazed bikerz and trukk boyz whooped with glee and took off ahead of the larger battle-wagons and trukks, firing sluggas in the air and chanting "Orks, Orks, Orks, Orks, Orks, Orks, Orks!!" The dust cloud whipped into the air by the bikes nearly blocked the sight of the Necrons.

Waaagh-bang stood atop _Deth on Tredz_, shouting obscenities and firing his shoota in the air. He watched his boyz with pride. Most generals would have wasted their time with stupid things like plans or tactics, but not him. Orks needed no plans, they already knew how to fight. Huge crescent-cannons fired in the distance and blew great holes in the Biker-boyz charge.

A loud droning filled the air behind Waaagh-bang, like the beating of a million wings.

Close behind _Deth on Tredz_ rolled a huge flat trukk, in actuality it was an aircraft hanger with wheels. The vehicle was called _Da Hanga_ by the Speed freeks that made it, and the reason for its name was being shown. As _Da Hanga's_ Driva continued his break-neck speed, the roof of the trukk slid apart. Before it even finished opening, a clumsy ramshackle chassis with rotors rose out.

It looked like a buggy without the wheels and with hastily bolted helicopter blades attached. The Deth kopta flew over the Warboss, its pilot laughing manically.

A swarm of Koptas unsteadily flew out of _Da Hanga_'s now fully open roof.

The massive Necron Pylons were soon under attack from crude bombs dropped by the crazed Orks

_Dem boyz 'ave lost it, dey fight good, but dey crazy._ Thought Waaagh-bang. He stomped over to a slightly lowered part of tank armor with a small lever sticking out of it. "Oi Driva." The Driva turned his head in the Boss's direction. "Run ova some of dem tin-can humies. I ain't got a flat one of dem for a tro-fee yet."

"Yeah Boss, dat'll be easy!" said the Driva enthusiastically and returned to his huge steering wheel. Waaagh-bang kicked the small lever at his feet and the 'eavy lifta he was on descended down into the red glow of his battle-wagon.

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Truka stepped heavily on his gas pedal. The Ork reveled in how his wartrak gained speed so quickly on this planet. The wartrak hit a small mound of grey dirt and it launched the crude, red painted vehicle in to the air. "WAAAAHOOOOOO!!" Truka cried. The wartrak landed with a bone jarring thud, but lost none of its speed.

Another ork by the name of Guna kicked Truka in the shoulder from his raised firing mount. "Kwit wit all dat fancy droiven, I's can't 'it anyfing when you's does dat!" Truka adjusted his goggles and laughed.

"Not loike yous hit anyfing anyway."

Guna kicked him again and rested a loving green hand on the big shoota next to him. "I's a deadeye wit dis gun."

A green arc of lightning flared past the trak.

"Well yous want ta proove dat? Start shootin'!" Guna grabbed the mounted big shoota and fired into the very quickly approaching Necrons. The bullets from Truka's trak joined the merciless rain of lead from other wartraks, buggies, and bikers. Guna's cheering and laughter was downed out by the noise of his gun. Necrons fell only by the shear numbers of the guns being fired at them. Countess bullets, shells, and rokkits missed entirely. The ones that hit were usually deflected by the ancient armor plates that made the Necron's bodies. The lesser caliber rounds did almost nothing, but heavy armor piercing rounds from weapons like Guna's big shoota punched through the ageless warriors. The Necrons ceased their march and fired their own deadly weaponry.

Green bolts of energy vaporized orks, blew up buggies and traks, shot down several of the Deth koptas that circled over them and dropping bombs. Larger Necrons on skimmer platforms rose above the throng of their smaller brethren, the cannons mounted on their arms fired thick focused beams into the approaching bikes. Orks were blown apart by the resulting explosions.

The endless tide of noise and recoil from above Truka suddenly stopped. The Driva turned his head around to see Guna off the shooting platform and busy with one of the junk boxes on the side of the truck. "What iz you doing!? Keep shootin' you git!" Gun turned to him with a long length of thick rusty chain. Hanging from the end was a huge sharpened hook. "Rememba does stoopid lookin' pansy Eldar we fought. Da ones wearin' purple?"

Truka search his memory. The entire Eldar race looked stupid to him.

"Yez mean da ones wot ran 'round wit no clothes on?" Guna nodded. "Yeah dem crazies."

Truka ran over a Necron warrior with a crunch. 'Wot about dem?"

Guna tied the non hook end of the chain to the trak's bumper. "I's gonna try a trick of deres. Drive by one of da flyin' gitz."

Truka turned his trak toward the nearest destroyer. The Necron fired its cannon into an ork truck far from the approaching wartrak, turning it into a fireball and the orks inside into ash.

Guna began to swing the sharpened hook around his head. As they neared it was spinning at a great speed. "I 'ope dis works!" he shouted throwing the hooked chain at the flying destroyer. The hook landed roughly between two of the stylized ribs in the Necron's chest plate. Truka pushed the gas pedal until it reached the floor, and the trak accelerated from its already insane speed to a greater one. The thick chain snapped taunt and the destroyer was ripped from its position. The flailing Necron tumbled into the ranks of its allies.

The sharp edges of the skimmer body were forcefully hacked into the ancient bodies of Necron warriors, dashing them into pieces. The destroyer itself spun upside down and slammed harshly into the ground. The upper body snapped off the skimmer and was dashed against the ground. The jets of the skimmer still fired until it had pushed itself along the ground for a meter or two and then stopped, very much destroyed.

Guna just stared in pride at the damage he'd done.

"Dat was a noice trick." Commented Truka. "Yup." Said Guna. "Get back ta shootin' stuff." Guna nodded and hopped back to the shoota platform and lost himself in the ensuing noise. Beaten and forgotten behind the trak, the torn upper body of the destroyer was dragged along on the chain. And close to the front lines, the sound of kannons could be heard.

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Waaagh-bang stomped over to where his body guards were putting on their Mega-armor. The Nobs only wore their armor when a fight came, while Waaagh-bang wore his nearly all the time. You never knew when some Nob got too big for his boots and wanted to be Boss…

The twelve Nobs stood stiffly in the armor as Meks attached the wheezing power suits, and grots oiled the joints. Waaagh-bang fired his shoota in the air to gain their attention. He paid no heed as a grot fell from above with a bullet in it and landed behind him. The Warboss turned to the Big Mek testing an armor's shoulder joint. "Oi, iz dey ready." Woresit nodded. "Az dey'll eva be Boss."

"Good."

Waaagh-bang turned to his now fully armed and armored bodyguard. "Alroight, before wes get ta stomp some more uv dem tin-can humies, you lot got ta know dis!" Waagh-bang stared each nob in the eye. "Deres one Neck-ron out dere wot got away from me at da last fight. 'Es da Boss of dese can-humies. 'E's bigger wit shoiny line tings on 'im and 'es on of dose skimma tings. 'E also got one of doez really sharp stiks wot da can-humies iz so fond ov." Waaagh-bang took a deep breath. "Just so you lot know, 'es _mine_!! _YEZ GOT DAT YOUS GRETCHIN LOVIN' NOBZ!!"_ Waaagh-bang roared, spittle flying into the Nobs faces.

"_YEZ BOSS!"_ The Nobs answered.

"Oi didn't 'ear ya!"

"_YEZ BOSS!!"_

"_WHO DA WARBOSS!"_ Waagh-bang bellowed stomping a foot down and made a large dent in the floor plates.

"_YOU DA WARBOSS!!"_

Waaagh-bang raised his power klaw and slammed in down on an unfortunate grot who was oiling his armor. Not a single ork noticed.

Waaagh-bang turned to the Big Mek, the Nobs and the ork boyz manning the weapons still cheering.

"Wes almost there?"

"They roight out side boss." As if to prove this a green arc of light blasted through a gun slit killing the gunner.

"Good. Drop da door, lets giv dem a taste of da WAAAAGH!!"

The drawbridge-panel of the _Deth on Tredz_ fell forwards impaling a Necron warrior on a trophy pole. Had Waaagh-bang looked to his right or his left he would have seen that the other battle-wagons and trukks also unloaded, and a tide of green warriors charged into there silver counter parts with choppas raised high. Waaagh-bang turned to his Nobs. "Oh and one ova ting. 'Ooeva's last to da fight, Oi'll shoot myself!"

Never doubting their Warboss's promise the Nobs ran as fast as their clanking armor would allow, their Warboss leading the leading the way.

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In the heart of the Necron pit the last of the slaves were slaughtered to the sarcophagus. The Necron lord watched as the last drop of essence flowed into the black coffin.

More was needed.

For once the Krork provided some usefulness. All of them who died, their essence was being pulled into the sarcophagus. Its captor was strong enough for that.

The Lord had no sense of self, and did not even remember what fear was, but still it remained here by the sarcophagus while the war was waged above.

The master will be better served here. Yes, that is why it stayed.

To the right of the Lord there was a shallow cave, and in the cave was a shadow darker than all the ones surrounding it. Two small pale yellow orbs glowed for the depths. The entity never spoke but its intentions flowed off of it like water. The Lord heard voices from the watcher, but did not recognize them as such. The Lord just understood the meaning.

….must feed…

….must not take longer.

….so long, so long…

…must…

...crave…

…the sleeper will awaken…

…feast then…

The Lord had no emotion, but a slight unnoticed remembrance of pride came at its master's pleasure.

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What is in the sarcophagus? Who is the watcher? What mayhem will the Orks unleash?

Well, if you want an answer, I gotta get a review. The more reviews the sooner I'll post the next chapter, got it?

Remember to review, press the button already!


	3. WAAAAAGH!

Alright I got my reviews, so here's my end of the bargain. I am currently stuck between this story, the other one I got posted, and a work in progress so I'm sorry this took so long. Just so I can say I said it, this _should_ be my last installment in Waaagh-bang's story. But I had just got a better idea.

I'm holding a vote, so vote for you want to see face the Orks next. The contestants are,

-Da pansy Eldar! Craftworld or otherwise!

-Da 'Nids(Tryranids)!

-Dem really weird Chaos boyz!

-Da Humies!

-More Necrons

-Da Tau!

And anyone else I missed! So make your vote and while you're at it, remember to review!

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Waaagh-bang roared as his klaw smashed the head off of another Necron. His shot several rounds at point-blank range into another silver warrior, but the bullets zinged off the armor as if they were fired at a solid steel wall. His klaw lashed out and clipped the Necron in two at the waist.

At ranged combat the Necrons had shown no hesitation and mass death ensued, at face to face brutality the Orks showed mercy, and destruction followed in their wake. The cold calculation of the Necrons had proved deadly against their ancient foes the Elder, and even the Old Ones. But neither Eldar nor Necron had the shear fury and love of violence that an Ork had.

History has always shown natural stupidity triumphs over artificial intelligence every time anyway.

"Smash 'em Boyz!" shouted Waaagh-bang as he backhanded a silver warrior off its feet and into its fellows. The Warboss lived up to his surname "Ironteef" by ripping into one Necron with his teeth and crushing another in his klaw. A Nob next to him with a red painted iron gob launched a hidden rokkit from his shoota into the throng before him. The explosion blew open the a Necron in front of him, but the small shockwave sent the Nob flat on his back. Another silvery warrior raised the under-slung axe blade on its gun and prepared to deliver the killing blow. The weapon descended right into another Nobs power claw. The Nob snipped the gauss weapon in two and shattered the skeletal robot's chest plate with several shoota rounds. He looked at the fallen Nob. "Get up, off yez arse, before da Boss sees yez." The red-gobbed Nob got to his feet, and growled at his rescuer. "I's didn't need yas help ya runt!" The other Nob, who had a checker mark pattern on his armor, accepted the traditional Ork expression of thanks and began the follow up beating. Red-gob began a ruthless assault on Checker-mark, and the two began an all out brawl.

More Boyz came around them and set into the Necrons while the Nobs fought. Waaagh-bang grabbed Red-gob with his klaw and smashed the Nobs face with a crushing head-but, the Warboss then back-handed the other Nob with his thick custom shoota. "Wot did I's say 'bout sloggin'!" Waaagh-bang shouted. The Nobs moaned in pain. "Dats roight." Waaagh-bang said as he ran back into the fray. Red-gob looked at Checks "You unastand dat?" Checks shook his head. "Nope."

A bright single moment of clarity passed through Red-gob's mind, it was profound, a once in a life time experience. "I fink, Is unastand now, 'e means-" A bright green energy bolt striped his head to atoms before the words could come out. The dead Ork fell to the ground motionless. Checks shrugged as much as he could in mega-armor and returned to the fight. ………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Woresit cheered from the top of the _Tredz_ as another detonation rocked the battle-wagon He and his "elite" team of Flash-gitz had moved up to the Boss's old perch. The Big Mek was having the time of his life, blasting silver Necrons to black slag with his kustomized Mega-blasta. The gun-crazed Flash-gits around him constantly fed their over powered kustom Shootas with what seemed like a nearly endless supply of ammo, thoroughly enjoying every aspect of their guns firing. The pit where the sickly green light was coming from was directly in front of them, as was the mobile mountain that was the enemy Monolith.

The Necron war machine ponderously floated scant meters off the ground. Powerful bolts of green lightning from corner-mounted gauss flux arcs seared through Ork trukks and buggies. Woresit pointed his Mega-blasta at the engine of death and fired. The orange blast of super charged energy lanced toward the Monolith and merely splashed against its hull.

The Monolith halted its slow advance, and then slowly rotated until it was turned in the Big Mek's direction. Woresit blinked.

"Alroight, dat can't be good." He turned to his Flash-gitz and the thought of warning them came to his mind. He discarded that idea, the crazies were too caught up in their guns to hear him anyway. So the Big Mek ran for the 'eavy Lifta.

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"HAhahahahahahahahahaha, HA! Is got one!" laughed an insane Flash-git with a huge tri-barrel big shoota. Rounds sprayed from the gun like water from a high-pressure hose. "Take dat yous skel-i-ton gitz!"

A larger Flash-git with a fungus cigar lodged in his teeth and a shoota that looked like it was made mainly out of eight randomly sized smooth-bore barrels snorted at the Ork.

"Dats nuffin, Watch dis!" The Flash-git pressed a yellow button on his gun and a mini rokkit launcha sprung out from between the mass of bullet-spitting tubes. The rokkit flew off, trailing a thick greasy smoke, and crashed into the Necrons below. The resulting explosion was much bigger than expected, it even showered the armored side of _Deth on Tredz _with shrapnel.

"All roight runt, top dat!"

The Ork with the Tri-gun looked grimly at his fellow, and put on a pair of mirrored goggles. "Yer on." The cigar-git actually stopped firing and leaned on his gun to watch. The three barrels on the shoota began spinning, and the Flash-git put in a much bigger clip. The Cigar git took a drag on his fungus stick and exhaled. "You gonna start shootin' afta da foights ova, or wot?" The flash-git dropped his noxious cigar with a yelp, for it burst into flames in his hand. Electrical discharges began zapping between his barrels, and the ammunition in his gun began firing by itself. A bright green light became impossible to ignore, Cigar-git turned to look behind his back. The eight-barreled gun was dropped and forgotten. The other Flash-gits stopped firing to see the top of the enemy Monolith blazing like a green sun before them. "What da?"

Tri-barrel finished modifying his gun, it had gained two more barrels, doubled in size, and had a shoulder strap. "Alroight, now I's gonna show yous- 'ey, where'd da Driva go?" He saw the crackling monolith, it power blazing like a beacon. "Ah, crud."

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Woresit felt something hit the lifta platform as he was going down. He turned to see the Driva getting back to his feet. The Big Mek was about to scold him with his klaw when the entire roof of the battle wagon crumpled and was ripped clear off in an almighty green blast. Sunlight streamed into the now open battle-wagon, dominating over the crude red light. Woresit and the Driva dived off the lifta to escape a large chunk of falling tank armor. The Big Mek hit the ground running as fast as his legs could carry him. Arms and legs pumping Woresit ran to the zzzap gun sticking out of the former Necron portal. Behind them Meks ran around in a panic. Woresit raised his fingers to his mouth and emitted an ear piercing whistle. The Meks stopped.

"Oi! You lot! Get ova 'ere now!" The Meks scrambled over dodging falling debris and a gauss weapon blasts. "I's got an idear 'ow ta kill dat stoopid pyromid ting." He took a deep breath. "Da cry-stall on top of it, you know da sparky ting wot we trew out, it was glowin' loik da reacta does when it starts goin' bad. Rememba wot 'appens when da reacta goes bad?" Some of the Meks smiled at the memory of the huge detonation. "Now da sparkley, zappy, cry-stall won't blow isself, so we's gonna make it blow up wit dis." Woresit patted the crude zzzap gun fondly. "So you," he pointed to a goggled Mek. "Get as much powa to da gun as yez can. You-" He pointed to a Mek with zappy stuff sticking out of his backpack. "Look trew a 'ole in da armor and tells me if I's pointen dis ting da roight way. And you-" he pointed to the Driva. "Ain't yous suppose ta be droiven dis tank?" T he Driva pointed to the missing ceiling. "Dey shot off me wheel boss." Woresit looked up. "Oh roight. Wait, if yous aint droiven den oo-" Woresit slapped his open hand on to his face. "We's 'eaded for dat pit arn't we." Woresit grabbed the end of the zzzap gun with all three arms, a stubborn look in his eyes. "C'mon ya git, wes gonna blow up dat pyramid if it's da larst fing we do!"

The Driva grabbed the gun and heaved with the Big Mek. "Oi zappy-Mek. Wes aimed roight?" The Mek looked through a gun slit and nodded. "Looks good ta me Boss." The goggled Mek shouted from the gauge station. "'Ey Boss, da gun got all da powa it's gonna get!" Woresit rasied his klaw. "Roight, FIE-YA!"

From the former warp portal of the _Deth on Tredz_ a massive super-charged blast ripped its way out of the zzzap gun hidden there. The orange meteor of energy collided with the pulsing crystal atop the Monolith.

The crystal was drawing in all energy around it to finish off the injured battle-wagon, the blast from the Ork vehicle struck when the crystal had reached critical mass. The crystal glowed with uncontrollable power, the grooves and etchings around the monolith had light pouring out of them. The green power rods embedded in the living metal exploded one by one. The crystal expanded, and terrible forces in it caused the power matrix of the monolith imploded. The crystal shattered and the monolith collapsed to the ground in a defeated heap. Cheering could be heard from the _Deth on Tredz_, even as it tipped in to the pit.

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Waaagh-bang's jaw dropped, both natural and iron. Crimson fury filled his eyes. "Dat…was… _MY…TANK_!!" The Nob body-guard dove out of the Warboss's way as the armored ball of fury that was Waaagh-bang threw himself at the Necrons. "Oi'll kill _ALL_ ov ya, _YA STOOPID, WERTLESS, GITZ_!!" The ten remaining Nobs just stood in shock and a little awe at their boss.

"Er… you fink we should 'elp 'im?"

"Do yez wont ta get in 'is way?" A pulverized Necron gauss weapon landed next to the first Nob.

"Er.. No I donk fink so."

"Taught so."

The Nobs remained silent for a moment, listening to the sound of their boss breaking metal bones and roaring threats at the skeletal warriors.

"Five teef says 'e kills 'em all."

"Nah, not against dat many…" There was a loud crushing noise. "Alroight, ten teef on da Boss."

"Put me down fer six teef on da silver gitz."

"Alroight, alroight, lemme foind a grot to write all dis down-"

A green arc of gauss lightning destroyed a spiked skull on the Nob's trophy rack. The Nob's expression of confusion turned into a hateful sneer. "Dat was me favorite skull! Betz iz off boyz, lets stomp some tin-can humies!" The Nobs ran after their boss, brutally trampling all in their way.

Waaagh-bang grabbed a warrior with his klaw and sliced it in half, the light in its eyes vanished. An iron-shod boot kicked the legs out from underneath a warrior, and then the same boot crushed the warrior's metal skull in to the ground. A Destroyer floated in, gauss cannon aimed. Waagh-bang knocked aside the glowing weapon with his shoota, grabbed the skimmer body with his klaw and yanked it down to see the Necron eye to eye, then broke the Destoyer's neck with a meteoric punch. The servos and pumps in his armor whining, he heaved the dead Destroyer above his head, and threw it into the few remaining Necrons. The warriors were knocked to the ground, and while they fell the Warboss bathed them in fire as a hidden scorcha in his shoota ignited. "Oo's next! C'mon, get up so Is can smash yez again!"

Waaagh-bang turned to face any threat behind him, but instead saw his Nobs crushing the life out of the rest of the Necrons. "Where da 'ell has you lot been?"

"Killin' stuff Boss." The Warboss snorted. The rest of his boyz were holding their own against the Necrons and, though he really didn't care, the battlefield was littered with Ork and Necron corpses.

"We'll leave da boyz to finish up da can-humies 'ere, we's going down inta da pit. Anyquestionsgood" Waagh-bang said quickly.

"No sloggin' we's goin' in now!" The Warboss and his Body guard ran for the earthen spiral paths that lead into the pit.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

The watcher paid no heed at all when the monstrous shape of the _Deth on Tredz _slammed into the floor of the pit with an immense crash. The Lord merely hovered over to the wreckage and killed what Orks survived. The watcher's eyes never left the ancient coffin.

The sarcophagus slowly began to unravel. The obsidian like surface changed, and became as grey smoke. The watcher in the shadow crept forward like a starved animal, the pale yellow eyes never blinked, never turned away. The Necron Lord merely watched. The watcher turned its eyes to the Necron, waves of displeasure, frustration and slight anxiousness rolled off of it.

….Your attack failed….

….the krork come…

…stop them…

….do not fail your god…

…you will be aided…

…go now…

…must consume…

The watcher turned to the rapidly solidifying smoke and stared. The Lord turned and moved with all speed to do its maker's will.

…so long…

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

The air thundered as the mighty armor-plated Orks rushed their way down the pit's pathways. Waaagh-bang cursed the Necrons with each step, his anger pushing him forward. His bodyguard did not have such motivation.

A Nob named Basha breathed heavily, Mega-armor was not easy to run in. "'Ey Boss, (huff) can wes take a short (pant) breatha?" The Warboss didn't bother to stop and just roared an answer. "Loke 'ell iz we stoppin', does tin-can humiez iz in for a good stompin' fer wot dey did to da _Tredz_. Say somfin stoopid loike dat again and oi'll beat ya."

"Yez Boss." Basha kept running.

The earthen spiral pathways led deeper into the dead grey soil of Omacron. The pit was shaped like the outside of a screw, wide pathway-tunnels spiraled down the sides into the blackness below.

Suddenly Waaagh-bang stopped, the Nobs behind him desperately did all in their power to avoid bumping into the boss. "Oo makein' dat noise."

"Er.. whut noise Boss?" "It's quiet, loike a 'issin' sound. The Warboss turned to look into the empty space that was the center of the pit and there, floating like the specter of death itself, was the Necron lord. The jets of its skimmer making a soft hissing noise.

Waagh-bang thoughts reorganized themselves and whacked his brain with a club of recognition. "YOU!" The Lord stared back at the Ork, if it recognized him it gave no sign. The Warboss's face instantly became a mask of fury, his eyes filled with bloodlust. _"IZ GONNA KILL YEZ YA GIT!!"_ Waaagh-bang opened fire with his kustom shoota. Bullets and shear concussive force flew from the gun like sparks from a steel mill. "Whut iz you gitz doin'?! Stat shootin' and don't stopp til yous iz outta ammo!" The Warboss yelled to his body guard. The Nobs added their own fire power to their Boss's, bullets and sound filled the air like a vast ballistic insect swarm.

The lord did not move for its position. What bullets hit were deflected by its armor, and what rounds penetrated its armor, were pushed out and the hole healed instantly. The Necron was being fueled by its master, nothing could harm it.

The lord just floated there until its master commanded it to attack. It did not wait long.

The Lord exploded into movement, the deadly bladed staff moving in swift whirls, deflecting shots and slicing others in two. Occasionally it would blast the earth below the Orks with the built-in gauss blaster, until the ground showed signs of weakening.

Soon the dirt and rock under the Orks's feet had nothing holding it up. The ground crumbled, Waaagh-bang and his bodyguard fell into the next level in the spiral pathway, and the weight of the falling armored Orks made that level collapse too. The next level held firm though and the Warboss landed with a thud.

His armor dented and his "Tinkin' 'at" dinged, Waaagh-bang stood up, his servos in his armor whining from the dirt and dust in them. Behind him seven of the twelve Nobs that followed him stood up. Waaagh-bang shook his klaw at the Necron Lord. "Iz dat all yez got ya skeiton-git!" The Lord began flying in close, its robe flapping in the wind, staff held out like a sword. Waaagh-bang backed off to dodge the sweeping attack, and only received a deep cut into his iron gob. The nob next to him though was decapitated by the shimmering edge of the warscythe. The heavy, dead Ork body slumped at the paths edge and fell into the depths. The lord came back for another swing.

The Warboss was ready for it.

Waaagh-bang stepped back and ran toward the paths edge as fast as he could. The Nobs could only watch in admiration as the Boss leapt from the paths edge and into the racing lord's path. In mid air the massive Warboss roared the timeless Ork warcry and his name sake. "WAAAAAAGH!!!" The Lord's glowing eyes blazed brighter as the huge armored shape drew near. The lord just stopped in mid-air as if a giant hand stopped it, and the Waaagh-bang's feet missed their landing. The Ork was now falling into empty space.

The second when the Lord stopped its attack and just floated in midair, a small unnoticed voice in the far back of Waaagh-bang's mind made it known that this tactic had been a bad choice. The other, more dominant parts of the Warboss's personality, quickly bludgeoned the smaller voice for using the "T-word" and then sent a new idea through Waaagh-bang's brain. Waaagh-bang reached out with his klaw and grabbed the skimmer's front right corner, the power sheathed edges gouging deep slashes into the Lord's armor. The Lord's skimmer tipped sharply forward at the unexpected weight and the jets screamed. With his momentum, Waaagh-bang swung under the Necron lord and up into the air. He let go at the apex of his swing. The Lord quickly straightened out, just in time for the ton and a half Ork Warboss to land on the broad back of its skimmer.

The Necron made a sharp turn, and Waaagh-bang began sliding toward the edge of the skimmer. He popped his klaw open and slammed the brutal blades into the golden-rune laced skimmer armor. His flat bottomed steel boots slid off the edge, but the Warboss's klaw held fast in the armor. Cables and bolts strained in his armor's klaw arm, the weight was driving the scratch built armor to its limits. Waaagh-bang grunted with effort as he pulled himself back onto the swiftly moving skimmer. His anger slowed a little when he felt powerful wind on his face. This Necron was _fast_!

"Oi! Boyz!" he cried to the awe-struck Nobs. "Wes gotta get more ov dese floaty tings, dey go real fast!"

The Necron lord dove, flipped and rolled in spirals in an effort to dislodge its wrathful passenger. It had more barely remembered memories surfacing. Ones like frustration and fury.

Waaagh-bang was having the time of his life. The shear speed of this thing was incredible! Maybe this is what his Storm-boyz felt like.

He began wondering if his meks could attach rokkits to his armor when the Lord tried to scrape him off by flying close to the wall. "Ey! Kwit dat you tin-can humie!" Waaagh-bang fired his shoota at point blank range, the bullets pinging off the lord's metal body. The lord swiveled on what might have been a waist, tearing the robe because most of it was pinned under Waaagh-bang. The lord attacked its unexpected passenger. The lord swung its warscythe, effortlessly carving off the shoota barrels. Waaagh-bang's face turned to a mask of hate. "You liddle grot-lovin' _GIT!_ _DAT'S DA SECOND TOIME YOU'S CUT ME SHOOTA! WOT YOU GOT AGAINST ME SHOOTA!"_ The lord blankly stared back and swung its warscythe. Waaagh-bang readied himself and-

The Nobs gasped.

"Can 'e do dat?"

"No one said ova wise."

"But, oi mean dat shouldn't even work, dat stik's _real_ sharp, so-"

"Sha-up stoopid, 'E's da Boss, 'E can do wot eva 'E loikes."

"Oh..eh roight."

The Warboss had caught the handle of the impossibly sharp warscythe between his teeth. "Hur hur hur, 'ake 'at oomie" he spat the words around the ancient handle. The Lord tugged to free its weapon from the Orks toothy embrace. It didn't budge. "E-ember iss oomie?" Waaagh-bang smashed the sheared shoota barrels in to the lord's face. The Necron reeled but turned to face the Ork again, the cracks and dents in its skeletal faceplate healing in seconds. Waaagh-bang then smashed his fist into the Necron's right shoulder, shattering the metal joint. Before it could fix itself, the Warboss wrenched the warscythe from the lord's damaged arm and held it firmly in his teeth.

With a swift shake of his head the deadly edge of the warscythe sliced the lord's left arm clear off. "Ix at oomie!" The Lord's eyes blazed green, and it raised it's now healed right arm. Disruption fields danced among its silvery fingers. The Necron Lord's hand moved in a blur, the disruption fields on it melted though the shoulder couplings in Waaagh-bang's Mega armor with relative ease. With creak, Waaagh-bang's shoota arm lost power and fell heavily to his side.

"Oh, _ow_ oo iz ead." The Warboss growled. With a swift motion Waaagh-bang drove the warscythe through the lords right wrist, severing the remaining hand and then rammed the bladed staff through the Lords left eye and out the back of it's head. The Lord's skimmer began to sputter and lose altitude. The dying craft fell toward the side of the pit and into one of the pathway tunnels. Waaagh-bang spat out the warscythe and cursed as he and the dying lord crashed into the back wall.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

The Nobs had remained silent with awe as the two army leaders dueled. They looked down where the Boss had landed, sparks from the dead lord could be seen flashing like yellow stars in the black void. The Boss could not be seen but he could be heard cursing his wrecked shoota arm.

Yelling could be heard up top the pit, even over Waaagh-bang's cursing.

"Sound's loike da boyz iz comin'."

"Yer."

"You fink dere's more stuff ta fioght down 'ere?"

"Yer."

"Loike where da Boss iz?"

"Yer."

"Alroight, wes betta get goin den, it's a long walk."

"Yer."

"Sha-up Stoopid."

"Ye-"

One of the Nobs whacked the Nob named Stoopid over his head with a shoota.

"Now stay kwi-et Stoopid."

The Nobs made their way down the spiral pathway, their armor clanking and hissing.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Waaagh-bang pulled himself off of the dead lord, his head spinning with dizziness. As he tried to steady himself, his un-powered shoota arm swung limply, the hydralik pumps in it no longer added to the Warboss's strength and as strong as he was he couldn't move the rusty armor unaided. The Warboss growled and carefully jammed his klaw into the dead power bundles and connecters that held the dead weight of the armor's shoota.

With a loud clatter, the shoota arm fell apart and landed on the dark earthen floor. His heavily muscled, deep green arm felt much lighter without the armor.

Now he needed new gun.

The Warboss stomped over to the fallen lord, and wrenched the warscythe out of its shattered face. The green gauss blaster was broken, the power conveyer tube had splintered in the crash, but the lethal edges of the weapon remained ever sharp. Waaagh-bang picked it up with his unarmored hand, it was better than nothing. At least until he found a new gun. The bottom of the pit was not far from where he was standing now, and if the day held out like it had so far that was where the _big_ fight would be. The Warboss turned an eye to the dead Necron Lord, a toothy smile working around his face. The Lord still sparked and sputtered, and a dim glow could be seen in its remaining eye. Waaagh-bang turned to his once-enemy, his power klaw clicking anxiously.

First things first.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

The Watcher moved from its shadowy alcove and into the comparatively bright light that streamed in from the pit opening. The shadows from the small cave seemed to grab and hold the watcher, as children would cling to a parent. The sarcophagus had all but dissipated, a shining skeletal figure standing in its place. The Figure was hunched like the Flayed-ones it had once commanded, and a long billowing grey cape fluttered behind it. Its skull-like face was shaped like a Necron's but it also carried characteristics of… something else. Thick, round tusks jutted from the sides of its mouth, and cruel horns curled around its silver head. Waves like that of the watcher fell from it, though much less powerful. The watcher shrugged off the shadows around it, and revealed itself for what it was. The shadow vanished to show a huge black cloak that concealed a nigh-indestructible stylized metal body. A great hood covered its features save for the yellow glowing eyes. The power emanating from it changed drastically, from barely held back hunger to great arrogance and superiority. Its intents were easy to see, and were felt with utter confidence.

…found you…

…I win…

…you will end like the others…

…you, Ki'lelxcup'e, the Beast Lord are ended…

…for you face U'areil, death incarnate…

…I am the ender…

…the finisher…

…the Nightbringer…

…and I am invincible…

The newly released C'tan seethed. It had been hidden so well, it had waited for countless centuries for its faithful followers to revive it. It could not end here, not to this monster. U'areil had been tricked by Tek'asonulp, the Deceiver to devour the other C'tan, not only the Old Ones and their pathetic armies. The Beast C'tan had run and hid, before he too would be devoured.

The Beast Lord gathered what strength it had. It could not win, but it would show that no matter what its condition, it is not easy to kill a god.

Invisible rays of power lanced out from the Beast Lord's silvery fingers, and his foe exploded into shadows. The New C'tan didn't allow a moment of hope to enter its thoughts, that blast was a mere play thing and not a million of them could kill the Nightbringer. The Shadows flowed across the pit floor and became the great dark robe again.

…your essence will be mine…

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Waaagh-bang was thrown onto his armor plated back as blazing ribbons of power ripped their way from the depths of the pit. The Warboss stared as the deadly fireworks display continued. Another grin spread across his face. Down there had to be one hell of a fight, and nothing would stop him from joining in. Waaagh-bang began running as fast as his armor would let him, he did not want to miss any of this.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

The air crackled as another, more potent beam was launched with hundreds of years of hate behind it. The dark form bent slightly and the ray missed, sending a large portion of the wall behind the dark Star-God into another dimension.

…weak, so weak…

The pale yellow eyes flared and the Silver C'tan fell to one metal knee, a good deal of its energy drained into those soulless yellow eyes.

…weak, but so sweet… The façade covering the Star-God's hunger dispersed.

…so long, _so LONG!_

The Nightbringer pulled its arms from the depthless black of its robes revealing a massive hook-bladed scythe. The shadows covering its face fled and the C'tan's nightmarish features were shown to the light. Its face was like a long dead corpse, not skeletal, but very dead. The Nightbringer opened its mouth opened horribly wide.

…_Feast…_

The Nightbringer threw itself, black robe trailing, at the much weaker C'tan. Fingers with the graveyard's chill lifted the smaller struggling form from the ground. The silver star-god lashed out with every power it had left, and small sections of the Nightbringer's metal skin vanished only to rejuvenate and fix itself. The Dark C'tan held the Beast Lord in one claw and raised its scythe in the other. Sparring no time for drama, the Nightbringer's arm moved in a blur and severed the Beast Lord's horned head from its shoulders. A moment passed, and before the head even touched the floor, it and the silver metal shell in the dark C'tan's hand detonated with an almighty explosion. A great nimbus of energy, shining like the energy of the sun itself, filled the pit and began to vacate it quickly. But it began to be pulled down back into the depths and siphoned straight into the Nightbringer's open maw. The bright energy flowed down into the Dark Star-god's mouth like a waterfall of light cascading into a bottomless cavern. Darkness crept back into the pit as the light faded. The Nightbringer closed its mouth.

"Wha? Dat's it? Oi missed da foight already?!"

The dark C'tan rotated to face the new speaker.

"Stoopid Meks! Dey can make rokkits wot werk da first toim, but dey can't make me mega-armor fast. 'Ey deres da _Tredz_!"

The Nightbringer looked at the strange Krork before it. Did it not feel the aura of fear emanating from the star-god?

The Krork was one of the biggest the C'tan had ever seen, it even had the former Necron lord's head stuck on a spike on it's armor.

…you defeated my pawn…

…it failed it's duty to me…

…I withheld my power from it…

"'Ey, 'ow come yous kan talk witout move yer mouff? Well it ain't important, I's iz da only won wot finishes da foights 'ere, you iz in for a pounding fer dat"

So Krork will still immune to fear, but it still only came up to the Nightbringer's waist. The C'tan raised its scythe and swung at the annoying creature. But something the star-god did not expect happened, its attack was blocked.

Waaagh-bang truly felt proud of himself as the stolen warscythe stopped the shadowy blade. "Hur, Hur, Hur, don't loike dat do ya, you, you… wot da hell iz you anyway?" The C'tan said nothing and its yellow eyes flared again and The Warboss cringed at sudden pain in his chest. Feeling betrayed by his own body, Waaagh-bang knocked the huge scythe away and lashed his klaw into the shadowy legs of the Nightbringer. The power sheathed blades left great rents in the metal limbs, and sun-like light poured from the wounds. The Nightbringer made no sound but it felt the pain. The metal around the horrible wounds flowed together like liquid and the holes were sealed. The C'tan pale eyes blazed, and a swift blow from the scythe's handle sent the Ork Warboss clear across the room and slammed harshly into the wall. Waaagh-bang got back on his feet. "Alroight, yous iz a, a, a big shardowy, strong, big stik humie…" The new name sounded really stupid to

Waaagh-bang's ears. "Aw ferget it." The Warboss shouted a battle cry and charged the C'tan.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Th remainder of Waaagh-bang's Nob bodyguard peered down into the bottom of the pit. They could see their Boss getting repeatedly thrown around the room by the most dangerous looking humie they had ever seen. The seven Nobs grinned. "Dat humie would make a good trophy, oi needs ta replace me skull anyway."

"Nah, I'd kill dat fing before you even got ya shoota up."

"Yeah roight, ya even try it and ill make ya into wormfood."

"I tink da Boss'll turn ya bof inta wormfood if yez intarupt 'is foight."

The Nobs pondered this.

"Wow, Stoopid 'ad a good point fer wonce."

"I ain't Stoopid, Stoopid's ova dere ya git!"

"A Git am Oi! I'll show yous!" Two of the Nobs began a vicious brawl, snarling the two combatants tried to rip each other apart. The Nob named Basha fired a shoota round at both of them. "Sha-up! Is tryin' ta watch a foight 'ere!" The combatants took no notice. Another Nob walked beside Basha.

"Why yous watchin' da foight instead of joinin' in it?" The was a loud battle cry and a brutal crash.

"'Cause dat big humie jus' used da Boss to break down da rest ov da way down dere."

"'Ow come we aint jumpin' down den?"

"Whut? Yous got grotz fo' brains or sumptin? Try to jump and yous'll be lots flatta than you was before!" Basha stated.

."Den why don't ya jump on to da big humie and stomp 'im flat when yez land?" The Nob known as Stoopid said.

Basha turned to Stoopid. "Stoopid, I _know_ yous got grotz fer brains so Is won't even ask."

The two fighting Nobs rolled a tumbled until the two fell off the edge and on the back of the Nightbringer. The C'tan crumpled under the unexpected weight and hit the floor with a thud. Stoopid looked over the edge of the walkway and at the flattened C'tan. "See yez got sumptin soft ta land on now." The Ork jumped over the edge and after his comrades. Basha looked down as the dim Nob landed on to the Nightbringer with a belly flop. Basha looked at the Nobs who remained with him. "'Ey we aint gonna let Stoopid show us up iz we! Humies make squishy landin's anyway, lets get 'im boyz!" Basha leapt from the edge swiftly followed by his fellows.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Waaagh-bang watched with open mouthed shock and amazement as his Nobs jumped from high up and landed, with loud clanging noises, onto the Nightbringer. What kind of idiots did he keep as bodyguards? Every time the C'tan tried to rise, it was slammed face first back into the rock of the pit floor by two-ton, laughing, armored hailstones. The Nobs didn't laugh so much after the pulled themselves from the pounded Star-god. Basha stamped over to the Warboss wincing with each step "Wot 'append to squishy humies?! Dis one went clang when we 'it it!" Waaagh-bang punched the Nob with his unarmored hand. "Wot took yez so long!? Dis shardowy git finished a foight, wot Oi wanted ta join, so you lot are going ta help me kill 'im, _got dat_!"

"Roight Boss!"

"Good."

"Er.. Boss, aint dat da _Tredz_."

"Oi already saw it Stoopid."

"Oi'm Basha Boss, Stoopid's ova dere-"

"'Es getting back up, get 'im boyz!" the Warboss roared

The battered Nightbringer quickly rose from the C'tan shaped depression in the rocky floor, and moved it's scythe into an aggressive posture. The Mega-armored Orks charged the Star-god weapons firing and klaws raised. The Nightbringer summoned a great ethereal wind and blasted it into the oncoming Orks. The gale's strength was so great, it lifted the Orks off the ground and threw them at the wall. The Star-god wasted no time, and before the Orks could get to their feet it was upon them. One Nob was sheared in two by the scythe's shadow thin blade, all life drained instantly and only armor and dust hit the ground. Waaagh-bang forced his huge klaw into the C'tan's chest, the points of the blades piercing clear through the Star-god and out its back. Viciously the Warboss snapped his claw open and closed and twisted it while he did so to cause all the damage he could, light streamed from the gaping wound and illuminated much of the pit floor. The Nightbringer grabbed the maiming klaw with it's free hand, and began to pull the ruining weapon free of its body.

Waagh-bang fought as hard as he could, but this enemy was _strong. _The death chill of the C'tan's grip seeped through the klaw's armor and into the Warboss's hand making it harder to focus. Surely enough the Ork weapon was pulled out, still snapping, and with a swift motion the Nightbringer threw the Ork forcefully against the wall. Two more Nobs were felled with one swipe of the Shadow scythe, dust and armor clanging to the ground.

Waaagh-bang had been thrown many times, he was sure his armor was taking a beating and he was running out of body guards, but still the Warboss was not finished yet. He dropped the Necron warscythe and picked up a great boulder lying near him with both arms. Heaving it above his head the Warboss turned to see the Nightbringer closing in on the remaining Nobs. The components of his klaw arm creaked from the boulders weight, and his real arm was beginning to ache really badly. Half stumbling, half running, the Warboss rushed toward the towering Star-god. "'Ey humie!" The Nightbringer glanced in the direction of the noise to see a flying boulder fill it's vision. "Catch dis!" In a simple downward stroke the C'tan sliced the boulder in two with its scythe, and beneath the C'tan's field on vision Waaagh-bang's power klaw closed over the Nightbringer's wrist, brutally severing the scythe wielding hand, and light poured from the stump. The hand and scythe fell and faded into shadows before they struck the floor. The Star-god's face contorted into a mask of disbelief. The C'tan could heal wounds easily enough but it took more time for it to regenerate a limb.

All the time the Orks needed.

The three remaining Nobs descended onto the Nightbringer like green, scrap-armored wolves, knocking down the Star-god and mercilessly ripping into the metal body with their klaws, tearing great rents in the once intricate metal body, letting the bright sun like energy pour from the wounds. Waaagh-bang stamped to the head of the Star-god and placed the Klaw's blades around its head. "No one finishes a foight 'ere 'cept _ME_!" Waaagh-bang roared. The Warboss snapped the Klaw shut, but the klaw closed only until the blades were against the side of the C'tans head. The pale yellow eyes stared in fury as the hydralik pumps in the klaw whined and groaned trying to crush the C'tan's head. The eyes spoke promises of most horrible vengeance, vengeance the pathetic Ork could never understand, agony it could never imagine. Waaagh-bang didn't care in the least.

What ever held the klaw's strength back vanished and the C'tan's head was crushed like a tin can. The blazing light that poured from the wounds rose to new intensity and the shredded metal body of the Nightbringer detonated.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The Orks above ground were truly enjoying themselves. Most of the Necrons had been routed, the remaining forces seemed to ready themselves to fight to the finish. A very rare occurrence when fighting Necrons, so the Orks instantly began placing bets on who was going to have the most new trophies at the end of the day. The remnants of the Necron army clustered around the still slightly smoking Monolith. Merciless green beams of gauss fire fired non stop into the charging horde of Greenskins. Trukks, traks and bikes were vaporized to their atoms by the powerful weaponry, and still the Orks closed in at break neck speed. Just as the Orks were about to set into the Silver army they all vanished in a flash of green light. The Orks slowed there rush until they stopped. Moments passed as their eyes relayed the information into the their brains. Slowly it began to dawn on them that the enemy had gone. One buggy Driva slammed his ham-sized fist onto his dashboard. Some where among the throng of puzzled Orks a voice rang out. "Dey ran again!?"

"Looks loike it."

"You know wot gets me?"

"No, whut?"

"Where do does gits flash ov ta anyway?"

The collective brain power of an army of Orks, focused on this for all of two seconds before someone merely dismissed it with an "Aw ferget it. 'Ey anyone seen da Boss?" The huge mob of rusty tanks and green Orks broke into a massive babble of individuals who all claimed to have last seen the boss killing something somewhere, but as to who was being killed and where was open to debate.

The kind of debate that involves choppas.

"Oi saw 'im last, he was flying one of dem floaty gitz-"

"-Dats roight 'e was smashin da silver gitz wit a small trukk-"

"-On da moon oi swear it!"

"-A liar am oi, Oi'll show yous!"

A shockwave exploded out from the edge of the pit, behind the Orks. The boyz and one very top-heavy tank, were knocked to the ground. A column of pure midnight darkness raced out of the pit, behind it a weaker but still powerful blast of grey light followed. The two energies sped toward the sky and set off in completely different directions, both headed for nearby stars.

There was silence for a moment, only broken by the guttural rumble of idling engines.

"Oi, you fink deres a foight ova dere?" The word fight spread through the Orks like wildfire. Excitement rose in their eyes, and the disappointment of the fleeing Necrons was forgotten.

"Yeah, where deres a bang loike dat deres got ta be a foight!"

"Where deres a bang lioke dat deres da Boss too."

"Oo cares? Deres a foight!"

"Lets go to da foight!!"

"Hur Hur Hur,YEAH! WAAAAAGH!"

The smaller vehicles made swift U-turns and raced toward the pit as fast as there engines would allow. The huge wall-like dust cloud kicked up by the bikes, trukks, and warbuggies was pierced by the rusty gauss-scarred battlewagons. Boyz ran on foot only until they could hitch a ride on one of the passing tanks. The suddenly suppressed blood lust had just found an exit.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Down in the depths of the pit Waaagh-bang pulled himself out of a pile of rubble. The two remaining Nobs heaved themselves off the ground, groaning in pain. The Warboss stomped over to them. "Whoo, dat was won 'ell ov a foight boyz, now Is need ta get out ov 'ere, any oidears?" The Nob's looked at the utterly ruined spiral pathway leading out of the pit. The parts of the pathway that hadn't been destroyed by the Orks themselves was completely destroyed by the C'tan's detonation, crushed stone was all that was left. The Nobs shook they're heads. "I'm outta oideas Boss, oh and don't bovva askin' Stoopid. 'E's as dum as 'is name." Stoopid nodded in agreement. Waaagh-bang screwed up his face with the effort of thinking, the Warboss's philosophy was simple; when in doubt, shoot it. He relaxed his face and made a toothy grin. "Oi, wots yer name agin?"

"Basha Boss."

"I need you and Stoopid ta start shootin, we'll get out dat way."

"Er.. by just shootin, Boss?"

"Yer."

Not ones to disobey the Boss while he was within earshot, the Nobs opened fire on the stone walls around them.

"Shout too!"

"Wot Boss?"

"_SHOUT TOO, YA GRETCHIN LOVIN' GIT!"_

Basha and Stoopid began shouting like they were in a fight. Waaagh-bang added his voice to the noise around him, and hoped that his boyz were as dumb as Stoopid.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

The Orks around the pit began cheering when the sounds of gunfire and battle-cries were heard coming from the pit.

"Told ya dere was a foight!"

"Oi can 'ere da Boss too."

"Didn' Oi already tell yez? Oo cares deres a foight!"

"Dats great, but ow do we get to it?"

A loud buzzing filled the air as the few remaining deth koptas zoomed down into the pit. One kopta stayed, and hovered over the opening for a moment. The goggled pilot grabbed a sign from inside his chassis, and hung it on his Kopta's side.

"Wot does 'Et my shel casins!!!' mean?"

"Dunno, but oi wish oi 'ad won of does koptas roight now!"

The land-locked Boyz watched the koptas descend into the pit with envy.

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Waaagh-bang heard the incoming koptas. "Alroight you Nobz, when da kopta comes grab it wit yer klaw and dey'll pull us roight out, got it?!"

Basha nodded. "Sure Boss." Stoopid nodded along with Basha but said nothing.

The buzzing of the kopta grew in volume until the sound seemed to be a part of the pit. The chunky ork flyers trailed smoke and fumes and descended until they were close to the pit floor. "'Ey! Wheres da foight?!" a Flyboy shouted over his kopta's engine. A huge klaw grabbed the side of his kopta, and a great, green, helmeted head followed. "Get us out ov 'ere yez git!" The Flyboy panicked for a moment. "Oh 'i Boss!"

"Don't "'i Boss" me, Just get me outta dis pit." The Flyboy nodded and began to fumble with the deth kopta's controls. "Alroight er..now which button makes dis er.. fing go up?" Impatience and a promise of a beating was etched on Waaagh-bang's face. "Well…er red iz good lets try da red won." The Flyboy pressed a red button with Ork skull glyph on it. The rotors on the kopta spun to new and unstable speeds, and the kopta rocketed up to the pit entrance. The edge of the pit flashed by and the cheering lake of Orks and rust standing by the edge went by and became smaller. Daylight filed Waaagh-bang's vision, and the sound of tearing metal filled his ears. Looking up at the grey polluted sky, the Warboss and Flyboy saw that a few rotor blades had just torn themselves off from their moorings, and that the kopta was quickly falling out of the sky. The Flyboy looked to his Boss. "Well sorry Boss, dere's only one ejector seat 'ere, and oi'm sittin on it." The flyboy pulled a lever and the seat was launched from the chassis. Chunks of seat and Ork flew past Waaagh-bang.

He took no notice of this though, the sheer fact that there was a Mek somewhere stupid enough to put an ejector seat in a deth kopta, and that there was an Ork dumb enough to use it took precedence. These thoughts caused him to neglect the fact of the oncoming ground. He remembered when he was dragged along the ground by the dead kopta. A great pain arose in his unprotected arm, but Waaagh-bang did all possible to ignore the wrenching pain. The wrecked kopta slid to a stop with a small shower of soil and pebbles. The Warboss stopped for a moment and merely breathed. This slight action caused pain, but it was nothing a Dok couldn't fix. The Boyz were running to the crash site, cheering. The Warboss grinned toothily and heaved the deth kopta off of him with his klaw arm. He tried to stand up and noticed that his unarmored arm was bent at the elbow, but bent the wrong way.

Oh well, nothing a Dok can't fix there too. The Boyz were around him chanting his name, the crash must have been more impressive than he thought.

"Alroight boyz, we stomped them Neck-rons good. But dere's nuffin left ta foight here, it's toime wes moved to anudder place!" The Orks cheered loudly. A new place meant new loot and new stuff to fight. "Get all da Meks togeta, we needs dem ta build a new ship! Dere lots of humie stuff 'ere wes'll be foightin soon boyz!

The Orks cheering became loud roar, fighting was in their blood, and they will fight 'till the end.

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Very far from Omacron, and almost on separate side of the galaxy, two stars were being drained. On both sunspots began to appear, and solar flares vented off. At each star a very small figure was siphoning the star's power into themselves, each were rebuilding and each awaited the time they would meet again. And both vowed that next time, the outcome of the fight will be different.

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Whew well there it is, I hope you enjoyed this and if not, review anyway. I'm going to try to rework the first chapter, so yes I know it sucks. Just gimmie some time. So remember to review, and if you want me to continue Waaagh-bang's story, tell me who you want to see him fight next. I really don't care who. And above all, remember to press the review button. It's right there. Go ahead. Please press it, I wont get better otherwise.


	4. Oo's next!

Alright here it is, the forth installment of Waaagh-bang's epic tale. I will not lie, many people did vote on who the Orks would fight next, but no two votes were the same. So you see, I had to make the choice myself, and my choice was: The-

Wait if I tell you that, then you might not read this, and more importantly, you might not review. Which reminds me, how come I have over eight hundred hits on my story here, but only thirteen reviews? What does a guy gotta to do? Do I have to threaten you with a frenzied Squig to convince you to review? Will that work? Eh… why not? I'll give it a shot.

Next person, who reads this and does not review, will be horribly savaged by a frenzied Sqiug!

Oh, and I do not own any Warhammer 40000 stuff that I could make money off of.

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Ork Warboss Waaagh-bang Ironteef, Kan squisha, Da Trigga-Happy was bored. Bored out of his mind.

Three months after he had beaten the Necrons off the world of Omacron, his Meks had bolted on the last bulkhead to a huge Kroozer, made out of looted scrap from the wrecked hive cities dotting the planet. The ship, which Waaagh-bang christened the _Deth wit Frusters_, was an amazing feat of Ork Kustomizin'. While it was on the ground the rusty behemoth stood nearly half a mile high, and was nearly four times as long. Thirty thruster exhaust ports made from hollowed out, reinforced sky-scrapers stuck out of the rear like miss-angled feathers, and the front of the Kroozer had been given a massive, city block spanning Iron Gob. Waaagh-Bang wasn't sure what it was for, but it sure did look impressive.

The entire ship was red, if not from the countless gallons of bright red paint dumped down its length, it was from acres of badly rusted sheets of looted plassteel. The Kroozer, as with all Ork vehicles, bristled with guns. Sticking from between the teeth of the Gob huge Kannons stuck out like sentinels. It had taken an extra month for the Meks to figure out how to launch the ship, and when the day had finally come to leave Omacron, the reactors powering the engines had worked better than expected and fired the ship straight into the sky and out into space in record speed, also leaving a huge crater at the blast off point. Subsequently it lost power and drifted for three days, but several cracked skulls later Waaagh-bang managed to give the Meks incentive to hurry with their repairs.

After the battle with the Necrons, the Warboss was hoping to find a new enemy to fight quickly, but after three months, nothing worth fighting was had entered sensor range. Who knew that it would be this hard to find someone to fight?

Waaagh-bang currently stood in one of the _Fruster's_ many huge cargo bays. The huge, rusty room was well lit and had seen much of it's unique use.

The Warboss came here in emergencies, like when some Nob needed to learn his place, or when Waaagh-bang was angry about something. Or when he was bored.

"Launchit!" He roared. There was the sound of a kannon firing from the far end off the bay and a yellow trukk appeared, sailing through the air and nearly scraping the rust off of the scrap ceiling. Waaagh-bang opened fire with a brand-new kustom shoota, the trubo-detonator rounds impacted with the flying vehicle and the condemned trukk exploded into flames. The flaming vehicle crashed into a large pile of smoking wrecks on the other side of the cargo bay burning brightly. Waaagh-bang nodded in satisfaction as the pile of ruined trukks smoldered. He trained his shoota to the ceiling and shouted.

"Launchit!" There was another kannon shot and another trukk, this one red, flew through the air. Several shoota rounds later another blazing wreck was added to the pile.

Waaagh-bang was the stereotypical Orkish Warboss, as in around eight feet tall, had muscles not even a Space Marine could match, and the common IQ of the galaxy's most idealistic brick. When faced with an issue that was beyond his thinking capabilities, the Ork was known to merely hit the offending object to see if the problem would go away.

The red mega-armor he always wore was kustom made by the best Mek in his WAAAAGH. Not surprisingly after the order had been given, the Mek had forced a bunch of Gretchin do all the work at shoota point. But despite the "artisan's" inevitable blunders, the hydrawlik pumps and riveted plates that now covered the Warboss had stood solid against everything that had been thrown at Waaagh-bang.

"Launchit!" There was the rattle of gun fire, and another explosion.

On top of his thick skull sat Waaagh-bang's prized "Tinkin 'at". The helmet had huge horns sticking out from its sides, and had been painted a very bright red. According to the Warboss it helped him think faster because it was red. No one who could point out the problem of this had dared ever say otherwise.

A loud clank echoed through out the cargo bay as the door leading to a rusty balcony far from the Warboss opened. A squig leather clad Ork, roughly half the size of the huge rusty door, stepped out on to the balcony and leaned over the railing. From where Waaagh-bang was he could see the Ork cup his hands over his mouth and shout something. Waaagh-bang craned his neck as much as he could in his mega-armor. "Wot? Say dat again?!" The Ork shouted louder, but the distance dissolved the words into meaningless echoes. "Oi can't 'ear ya, use dat loud tingy!" Waaagh-bang yelled.

The Ork cupped his hand around his small pointed ear. _"Oi said, use da loud tingy ya grot!!"_ The Ork nodded and opened a junk box on the balcony. The Ork quickly pulled something from the box and to his mouth, causeing terrible whining feedback echoing throughout the bay, causing both Orks to slightly wince. A static distorted Orkish voice came through spaekas mounted in the walls. "Um…Boss, wes runnin outta Trukks fer you ta shoot at." The Ork could almost see the irritated expression on his Boss's face. "But uh, da Mekz say dat dey fink dey found sumfin on der scannas fer you ta look at." Waaagh-bang's interest had been caught. "Well? Wot did dey foind?" The Warboss shouted back.

The Speakas squeaked "Wot Boss?"

"Oi said wot did dey foind?!"

"Oi cant 'ear ya Boss, wot did yez say?" Waaagh-bang took a deep breath.

"_WOT DID DA STOOPID GITZ SAY DEY FOUND!?"_

"Oh, well dey ain't sure Boss, dats why dey needz ya up dere."

Waaagh-bang wondered for a moment weather or not to shoot at the Ork in irritation. This thought was quickly misplaced and forgotten as his brain made sense of what the other Ork had said. Something on the scannas could quickly turn into something to shoot. The Warboss turned from his Shootin' Place and headed out through the bay door. Too bad his Meks didn't know what it was now, but he guessed that the old humie saying was right: If you want something done right, shoot at it.

Or something like that anyway…

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A human might describe much of the interior of the _Deth wit Frusters _with the word badly, as in badly maintained, badly operated, and badly in need of a few hull breaches. To an Ork it was the equivalent of a wild party. To Orks, nothing was better than a good fight, but if there are no enemies around to fight, and no one has called anyone else a git and started a fight, Orks found other means to distract themselves.

Waaagh-bang stomped across a catwalk over the main "Wreck-ree-a-shun" area, Ork entertainment of all kinds surrounding him. Bright lights illuminated the gigantic, noise-filled room. The rusted floor had gained a thick layer of dirt and pieces of half eaten sqig that had been crushed into the floor by hundreds of thick Ork boots. Mobs of Ork Boyz and the occasional Nob covered the filthy floor like a muscular green carpet that had learned foul language and how to fire a gun.

To the left of the Warboss, two Orks who were engaged in a head butting contest. A shouting crowd of Orks circled the slightly-concussed contestants, betting teeth on their favorite to win.

Loud bangs and guttural cheers echoed from Waaagh-bang's right as Orks played the now infamous game, "Wich runt goes bang." The object of which was to guess which grot, out of the three placed before you, had been forced to swallow a bomb. Each grot had a pair of wires exiting its mouth and the wires led to a big button for each grot. Once the contestant chose his grot he would press the button and if the grot exploded in your face, you won. An especially loud bang shook the rusty catwalk as Waaagh-bang punched open the hatch on the other side of the catwalk. Ignoring the great cheers from below him, he silently he made a note to check if they were using See-foor in their games again. The Warboss snorted and crossed through the open portal and into the corridor leading to Kontroll room.

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The Kontroll room was small in comparison to most of the area aboard the _Deth wit Frusters_. It was darker, and to an Ork it smelled funny. It didn't smell of fighting, violence, or any fun what so ever. This put most Orks on edge and they tended to avoid such places. Over the door, some Ork had carved in a message to his fellows, advising that hard work on their part is good and well appreciated. It said:

**No sloGGin, No sLeeepin**

**No squIgs, No grotS **

**No kiddiN.**

The rooms only occupant was a happily drunk Ork sitting in the large command chair, and at that moment he was blissfully unaware of the first rule.

The Mek in the chair relaxed. He leaned back in the big red iron-plated chair. He stretched he arms until his joints popped and yawned widely, releasing halitosis bad enough to tarnish a silver plate. The Mek's large green right arm reached at the base of his chair and pulled up a scrap-made flask. The Mek shook the flask near his ear and smiled at the sound of liquid sloshing around inside. He put the tip of the rusty flask to his lips and swallowed some of the noxious Fungus grog he had been hording. There was a clank behind him and the Ork spun in his char and jumped to his feet. Through his eyes he saw the Boss standing in front of him, smiling happily from the door way. The Mek sighed with relief, it must be another hallucination from the grog. The Boss either growled, shouted, or shot his gun wildly when he entered any room. Yup, this had to be a hallu-

The now very life-like phantasm grabbed the Mek by the throat and lifted him to see the Boss eye-to-eye. The happy smile rippled and faded from the Mek's sight as the familiar scowl took its place. So the smile was the hallucination, the Mek thought.

"Oi Mek, wot did oi say 'bout drinkin', an' flyin' da ship at da same toime?" The Mek swallowed past the massive klaw that held him off the ground. "Er, yous said, er… The Warboss began to growl menacingly. "Roight! Uh, you said dat if I was 'aving a drink, ta get a bigger drink an' invoite you, an' a buch ov udder boyz, an' den we all get a drink, while I flys da ship at da same toime." Waaagh-Bang nodded. "Dats roight, so-" The Warboss gestured to the rest of the room with his shoota. "Where are dey, all da boyz ya invoited dat iz?"

"Deys uh, late Boss?" The Mek struggled in the Warboss's titanic grip. Waaagh-bang screwed up his face with the effort of thinking, then popped his klaw open and dropped the Mek. "Alroight, now Oi was tol' dat you found sumptin' on da scannas." The Mek pushed himself back to his feet and stumbled over to a crude control panel. "Roight Boss, er, da fing is, it don't stay in won spot long 'nough for us ta find out wot it iz." Waaagh-bang stomped over to the lit up scanna panel and shoved the Mek aside. The control panel was covered in small round radar screens, looted from Imperial outposts from Omacron. The screens all had one shaky green line circling the screen and, seemingly at random, a small blip would appear on each of them, all in different places. The Mek got to his feet again. "See Boss? Neva in da same place on two screenz." Waaagh-bang stared at the screens silently, as if he stared at them long enough they would tell him the answer.

Waaagh-bang was not the sharpest knife in the drawer, he was probably a meat hammer, but even he could notice when something obvious and stupid was in front him. The Mek stepped closer to see what held the Warboss so enthralled, when fast as lighting the Boss's shoota arm smashed him in the face. "You stoopid git! 'Af ov da screens iz in _upside down!!_"

The Mek rubbed the gun-barrel shaped bruise that was rising on his green forehead. The words worked their way into the Mek's grog and concussion muddled head and kicked the thought process into action. "Oh… well yeah, um.. dat would do it Boss." The Mek's vision swam as he got to his feet. Waaagh-bang grabbed several screens with his klaw and twisted them until they all faced one direction. "Er… Boss?" the Mek groaned.

"Wot?"

"Now dere _all_ upside down Boss." Waaagh-bang swung his glare from the control panel, to the mek and back again. "Well wot git put dese tings in stoopid-loike in da firs' place?!" The Mek searched his memory. About a month before launch, it was his job to put the screens in. After that his memory was blank, except for the explicate memory that he had drank some really experimental grog that night…

"Oi got no idear Boss."

"Well were iz dis ting suppose ta be now?" The Warboss shouted irritably

The Mek stood up and stepped toward the Scannas. 'Well da scannas _now_ say dat it's roight behind uz, so dat means…"

Waaagh-bang looked at the Mek after a moment. "Oi, why you stop talkin?"

"Jus pausing fer da draw-mat-tic affect Boss."

"Well kwit it and spit out da ansa!" Waaagh-bang shouted, his already thin patience fraying. The Mek, wary of his Boss's anger, quickly pressed a jagged button on the consol and there was a click behind them. The two Orks turned around, and before their eyes, part of the wall began sliding up. Beyond the sliding wall, the empty vacuum of space loomed. As the panels slid back, revealing darkness and stars, a force field crackled over the open viewing center. Small patches of the field sparked and static like interference played along it, distorting the star spotted view.

The view was of a huge derelict ship, floating dead in space. The ship was as large as the _Frusters, _although its coloring was a diseased yellow green. Its great arrowhead shaped prow had horrible carvings along its length of a multitude of races screaming in hellish torment. The armored sides of the ship were coated in similar effigies among distorted gothic arched and twisted mantels. Most terrible was the belly of the ship. The ship's side armor changed into a sickly mottled grey green flesh. Out from the flesh were several thick tentacles, great enough to wrench bow plates off of other ships. At the moment though, the long appendages floated in space, just as dead as the rest of the ship. A huge three pointed star with great circles between the points was emblazoned on the ship in many places.

"Oi'd say dat dey was roight in front ov uz Boss."

Waaagh-bang's large mouth spilt into a huge toothy grin. "Hur hur hur. Looks like Gork loiks us, dat deres a kay-oz ship!"

The Mek smiled too, Chaos marines always put up a good fight. "Dat ship ain't movin' much Boss, maybe dey 'er all sleepin." The Mek's grin widened "Well dat'll make em easier ta hit." The Mek ran passed his Warboss and began mashing buttons on another control panel. "Oi, Mek wot do ya think yez doin?"

I'm gettin da gun's ready ta fia Boss." Waaagh-bang stomped over to the Mek. 'Loike heck you iz! Da boyz 'avant had anyting ta chop since we launched off, and dey iz getting restl-, impati -, deyz getting _real_ bored. Wot's worse _Oi _iz getting real bored!" Waaagh-bang leaned over the much smaller Ork and stared him in the eyes. "If dey iz sleepin ova dere, Oi'll wake em up! You iz gonna launch space trukks when Oi says so, _GOT IT!!_." The Mek cowered under his Boss's anger, but didn't dare move just yet. Waaagh-bang brought the barrel of his shoota into the Mek's veiw. The already intimidated Mek found his eyes drawn to the weapon. "_GOT IT YA GIT!!_"

"YaBossOigotitOigotit!"

"Ya sure?"

"YezBossOi'msure!"

"Good." The Warboss stomped over to the main control panel and slammed a button that began to flash furiously. A small mikerfone exited the panel and stopped not far from Waaagh-bang's face.

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The Nob Basha reclined against one of the thousands of rusted steel girders that crisscrossed the wreck-re-a-shun room. Being a Nob he had beaten all his challengers in the head-butting contest, and none of the other brutal form of Orkish pastimes appealed to him. Not to forget the "Squig Punt" game, The stupid squig was still trying to chew his thick leather boot. Looking down at the determined creature, Basha pulled out his slugga and blasted the squig. It sqealed and deflated like a balloon. The Nob reached down to remove the squig and stopped, he felt a strange elation in him. Shooting that squig was the first bit of honest fun he had had since the fight with the Necrons, and now he wanted more. He aimed his slugga at another Ork, just one little squeeze…

"_-Z THIS DIS BUTTON DAT MAKES IT WURK?" _Boomed a huge voice next to Basha's ear. The Nob jumped out of his seat in surprise and turned to face what it was that was so loud. As he turned he saw that the girder he had been resting on had a speaka bolted to it. _"GOOD, NOW OI CAN TELL DEM- WOT'S DAT?" _All the Orks in the cavernous room were facing the blaring speakas. _"WOT'S VOL-YOOM? LOOK YA CAN NEVA BE To_o loud Mek." The hugely loud voice had quieted to a mere roar. "Oh it's wurkin'? Roight." The Boss's voice cleared it's throat "Alroight you lot of grotz, we'se found some one ta foight!" A wild cheer broke out among the Orks, they all waved their weapons high and shoota rounds ricocheted off of the ceiling. "It gets betta boyz, deyz KAY-OZ! So ooeva want ta chop something betta get to da space trukk's fast-" if there were more words they were drowned out by the countless Ork's running for the boarding craft. The Orks were going to war.

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Glemcrit scrambled as fast as his wasted legs would let him. The cultist ran down the once beautifully tumored halls of the _Poxes Glory._ The enemy had somehow gotten on board and had slaughtered everyone. The Deathguard Chaos marines protecting the sourcer's experiment were the first to fall, their heavily blessed bodies and armor provided no protection against the enemy's shimmering blades. Even Flemus Dragonbile, the ship's warlord was cut down by the shimmers. That was why Glemcrit ran, the enemy had no face no form, all he saw were shimmers, and then his poxed brethren dying in droves before his eyes. Grandfather Nurgle had abandoned them. With each step the cultist pleaded with the lord of Decay to save him.

His filth encrusted clothes cracked open sores on his body and gave of a terrible stench. For the first time the cultist cursed Nurgle's blessings, for surely something like the shimmers could find him by smell alone. He breathed heavily and broke into a thick cough. He stopped at a corner for breath, and hawked a pile of green phlegm to the floor. He looked up and froze, the air shimmered at the end of the hallway. The shimmer seemed to stare back at his crusted eyes, spun and then sped down the hall after him. The cultist screamed as the shimmer reached him, leaving deep slash marks all down the rotting hallway's length. The shimmer stopped right before him, and Glemcrit stared at it in utter fear. The shimmer moved and the Cultist was shorn in two at the waist. Glemcrit's upper half landed in overpowering agony and his vision's edges creped with blackness and the shimmer gained form before his eyes. It changed into a thin a slender figure with a glowing sword in one hand, and a strange pistol in its other hand. Its hair was woven into a long thick braid down its back, and most terrifying of all was its face. It had a wide and taunting grin, as if its wearer found laughter even in utter tragedy, and especially in death. The blackness covered Glemcrit's sight and his ears heard four words before they stopped working as well. "Meet your master Mon'kiegh."

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Alright, there is chapter four. Sorry it's late but I've had bad writer's block as of late so forgive me please. Oh and please don't forget to review, I welcome all criticism, but flames are not wanted. Those who read this and do not review, will be horribly savaged by frenzied Sqiugs! So there's incentive for you.


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